Proudstar Legacy, Part One
by Dionysian Dischord
Summary: John Proudstar, alias Thunderbird, a dangerous and mysterious young Apache, has been recruited to join a reserve group of X-Men in a rescue mission after several members are kidnapped in Africa and held hostage by Storm's old nemesis, The Hungan.
1. Chapter 1

"What's your story, Geronimo?"

John Proudstar looked over to the skinny kid in the trench coat that had spoken to him. Obviously the little prick didn't know who he was talking to. Too bad for him he had no idea how sensitive John was about his heritage. Before the kid could blink, John had exploded from the chair he was sitting on and towering his full 6'8'' height. The prick held his hands out defensively, trying to calm John down, talking slick as he could. John knew it wouldn't save him. A man nearly John's size came between them, introducing himself as Peter with a thick Russian accent, and politely asking John to back down from the prick, who he called Gambit.

"Nah, Pete, step outta the way. I got this," Gambit said as he shrugged off his coat. John didn't bother with his denim vest; he crouched low, his giant, heavily-muscled arms held in front of him, ready. Gambit threw a quick leg aimed for John's head, which John promptly grabbed and used to swing him to the ground. In an instant, John was on top of him, taking the full mount as he'd learned in the Marine Corps. Gambit was still dazed from the throw, and could only defend himself feebly from the ten enormous punches John rained from above. Had he been fully exerting himself, with strength that allowed him to lift over two tons, Gambit would have been dead; John was just using enough to teach a lesson. As he raised his fist for the eleventh blow, he felt his wrist gripped by cold steel.

"Enough. He has learned."

John looked up to see Peter, now seeming to be a steel statue, with a tight grip on his arm. He nodded and reluctantly got up from Gambit, then helped him up. Gambit just smiled and rubbed his jaw.

"You fight pretty good, Chief - I mean, uh..."

"John. My name is John Proudstar."

"Well, alright, John-boy. So, tell me. Where'd you pick up moves like that?"

"USMC. I did two years in Iraq. We -" John was cut off as Professor Xavier rolled into the room, flanked by Wolverine, to call everyone to attention and explain what was happening.

A team including Storm, Beast, Bobby, Scott, Jean, and Angel had been on a mission in Africa when they were kidnapped and held hostage by Storm's former nemesis, The Hungan. With the team so severely crippled, the Professor had chosen to bring in Gambit, Peter and John to flesh out a reserve team that would include Logan, Rogue and Kurt. While teamwork skills were not in question, as the three of them had all at one time been a member of some form of team, be it the Acolytes of Magneto or The United States Marines, but had never worked their mutant abilities in tandem with such a peculiar group. Over the next twenty-four hours, there wasn't much time, they would be constantly training strategy and drilling formation; afterwards, they would be Africa-bound.

John was plucking at his uniform on the Blackbird as it sped towards was ink-black and strangely comfortably skintight; spreading its wings across his chest was a deep red thunderbird insignia. John had long considered the Thunderbird his totem, since a vision of one had came to him in Iraq; Thunderbird was now his codename. He continued to run over the different scenarios and strategy he'd drilled; they were basic military tactics, nothing he wasn't familiar with. But he'd lost his temper twice and clashed constantly with Wolverine.

He was fiercely independent, John, and largely resented being commanded. In Iraq, he'd done the same with his officers as he had with Wolverine. He had almost been discharged, had he not have been so valuable a soldier. There probably wouldn't be any buddy-buddy nonsense with this group, either. He found Gambit's overcharged libido disgusting, Kurt's (now called Nightcrawler) insipid silliness intolerable and Rogue's falsified darkness juvenile. The only one John didn't dislike was the Russian, Peter (now called Colossus), and Wolverine he could take or leave. This was going to be a difficult time.


	2. Chapter 2

In Storm's old tribe, John was overcome with a strange kinship. This was how a true native tribe should function. He remembered back on the reservation, feeling disgust for his surroundings. The disgust he felt for his people, the once proud Apache Warrior tribe, reduced to living dejected in trailers on government handouts. But here, in Africa, Storm's tribe had flourished, though primitive, as a functioning independent society.

He looked over to Wolverine who was trying to glean information from what seemed to be the only English-speaking member of the tribe. John smirked and walked over, having seen what his leader could not, and lifted the African by his throat. Wolverine turned on him, claws extended, and demanded to know what John thought he was doing as a crowd gathered from the village huts.

"For all of your heightened senses, you can't even see. Did you notice his wrist, Wolverine? There is a tattoo of a skull, which is the Hungan's symbol, isn't it? You'll get no help from this lackey."

Wolverine snorted in annoyance from John's insubordinate comments. It was true. He could even smell faint traces of all of the missing X-Men; this man had been in contact. He looked up to see the African turning blue and trying to pry John's iron grip from his throat. With John's super-strength, it was a futile effort.

"Alright, bub, let 'im go. This little puke is gonna be our guide into the jungle."

John did as he was told, sort of; he did not drop the African, but slung him into an undignified heap on the ground. Wolverine rounded on John, warning him of further insubordination. He then told John, Gambit and Nightcrawler to form an alpha group to blaze a trail into the dense Kenyan forest; John would lead the trailblazing using the skill he'd learned from his grandfather since childhood, looking for signs of man and struggle. Wolverine's nose would do no good in such a sensory overload as Africa, with the X-Men having been too long ago brought through to leave much, if any, residual scent. Gambit would act as stealth support, his natural agility and tenure in the Theives' Guild allowing him to acrobatically navigate the canopy above, providing an imperceptible ally should John run into trouble; Nightcrawler would act as reconnaissance, teleporting ahead and returning to John and Gambit to warn of any trouble ahead. Wolverine would lead the beta team, consisting of himself, Rogue and Colossus. Having absorbed the lackey's memories, Rogue provided a general destination point for the group and act as intelligence if and when they encountered any other hostiles while Colossus and Wolverine brought up the rear as defense.

The deeper they went into the expansive jungle, the more respect John was beginning to respect whoever it was that he was tracking. Under his grandfather's tutelage, John had learned to see more in one glance than most men would ever see in a lifetime, and from the looks of the tracks (barely) left behind by the men of The Hungan, it was easy to see what kind of people they were. Certainly there was malice in their hearts, being kidnappers and all, but what man didn't feel a bit of darkness now and again? These Africans, these tribesman, had that intrinsic connection and deification of mother earth that John's people once had.

They moved through the jungle without disturbing the jungle, as the X-Men were doing now. There was nary a machete-mark or disruption of the flora, by and large. John had noticed the booby traps they had set, and the tripwires had not been man-made rope, but vines, and a complex alarm system using the jungle around them to alert. However, John could not allow his respect to cloud his judgment; these men would kill him, given the slightest chance. But John knew something these subjects of The Hungan did not: John was an Apache warrior, a born fighter, and relished the chance of a dust-up with them.

He heard a slight rustle and looked to his left as something darted off, knowing it was spotted. John, infinitely faster, stronger and more agile than a non-mutant, pounced like a cougar and tackled the runner to the ground, moving into mounted position and raining down blows after seeing the skeletal face paint. Three more emerged, ghostlike, from the forest to aid their fallen comrade; from a branch above, Gambit tossed down a charged playing card at each of their feet and leaped into the action, his staff drawn as Nightcrawler teleported back to the beta group to alert them to the situation. John and Gambit fought well together, back-to-back. As he rose from the unconscious original flunkie, John grabbed another around the neck in a plumbed clinch, throwing him to the ground and taking his back as he squeezed a tight choke down and cutting off his opponent's blood to his brain until the unfortunate tribesman lapsed into unconsciousness. Gambit's staff connected hard into the jaw of the second tribesman as he attempted to attack the preoccupied John with a meaty thud, dropping him. John jumped up as he saw the last tribesman sneaking behind Gambit to run him through with a spear; he darted forward, knocking Gambit aside and picked the tribesman up bodily and threw him into a nearby tree, smashing the trunk and the man's spine.

"Alright, fellas, what happened?" Wolverine asked as he and Colossus crashed into the scene, surveying the carnage. He noted the barely living choke victim and the undoubtedly dead man crumpled against the tree trunk; the corpse incensed him, as it went against Xavier's teaching not to take lives and he focused his fury on John, upbraiding him mercilessly. Rogue was touching the face of the man Gambit had disabled, absorbing what she could of their situation.

"There's about ten more men about a half-mile ahead, some watchmen or somethin' guarding the entrance into The Hungan's camp. We're close. These four were on their way back to alert 'em when Thunderbird and Gambit took 'em down. If they hadn't, our position woulda been given away by now, Wolverine. I don't know that you should be so mad."

"Aw, thank ya, chere, but just 'cause you think I'm cute don't mean I needja stickin' up for me," Gambit said slyly, putting his arm around Rogue's shoulders. She pushed it off in what appeared to be disgust, but not immediately. John could see the blood running to her cheeks, embarrassed by Gambit's forthcoming charm.

"Trust me, Gambit, it ain't you I'm mad at," Wolverine growled, "It's this idiot here. He knows Charles don't want nobody dyin' 'cause of us. We're the good guys, remember, bub?"

"Back off, Wolverine. I did what I felt was right. I'm no coward, but this man was. He tried to kill Gambit from behind, rather than face him. Had I not killed him, Gambit would be dead."

Logan didn't say anything; he hated to be contradicted, especially when the one doing the contradicting had a valid point. He was beginning to get a feel for his general distaste for John, however. The two of them were eerily similar. If he and Charles didn't do something to reign John in, he could prove to be a serious problem. Maybe it was a good thing that John and Magneto's former Acolytes were only on a probationary period.


	3. Chapter 3

John was crouched by the watchmen's campfire, resting on his haunches. Night had crept on the team and he, Peter and Rogue were to take first watch. He nibbled, disinterested, on a chunk of meat he'd found roasting on a spearhead nearby. Rogue had been wrong, there were only six men at the watch party's camp and had been relatively easy to subdue, much like the others. John had held back this time, way back, deciding it easier that putting up with Wolverine's incessant chastising. He took an idle drink from a bowl by the campfire and spat it back out; it was alcohol, but something rough and homemade. It tasted more like nail polish remover than any sort of recognizable liquor.

From the information Rogue had pieced together from the memories of all of the Hungan's men, she had deduced his plan. The Hungan had lured Storm to Kenya by using her old tribe to place a distress call. She had come along with Bobby, Hank, Jean, Warren and Scott to help when they had been kidnapped and taken to the Hungan's own hidden village where he led a cult of followers. By using his mind-control powers, he had made it appear that he could summon Storm, the Rain Goddess of the old village, as well as using the other X-Men as servants, appearing to control powerful spirits to do his bidding. The villagers, fearful of what they perceived was the Hungan's power, obeyed his every whim. The more John learned of the Hungan's ruse, the more livid he became.

Since they'd arrived, John had developed that kinship feeling with the African tribespeople, slowly gaining respect for their lifestyle and ability to thrive as a unified nation. None of that respect was given to The Hungan, the so-called Chief of his village. The duty of a tribe's Chief was lead his tribe into prosperity and harmony; a Chief shouldn't have to resort to brainwashing the very people he is supposed to lead. Back at the mansion, the girl, Kitty, had said that they assumed they'd seen the last of the Hungan after Storm had tossed him into the ocean. They hadn't bothered to finish the job, and as far as John was concerned, it was an embarrassing under sight. He would be sure to finish the job this time, regardless of what he'd been warned.

"We're a long way from home, huh?"

John looked over to his left, where Rogue hunkered down next to him.

"Yeah, I guess."

"So, John, right? You look like you got somethin' on y'mind."

"Hmph. Nothing to concern yourself with."

Rogue paused, wondering what to say after John's icy reproach. She opened her mouth, then closed it again, thinking what she was about to say was foolish; she did this about three times more, wishing someone more talkative, like Gambit, was John surprised her.

"Why do you feel like you need to make idle chitchat to be comfortable? If you want, you can stay here with me, but just stop and enjoy the quiet serenity of this place. It's so much more peaceful than Bayville."

She did.


	4. Chapter 4

The sun was up and John Proudstar was nowhere to be found. That was because he had snuck off in the night during his sleep shift, headed towards the Hungan's village. He was crouched on a tree branch overlooking the wooden fortifications that the Hungan had raised; they were primitive and easily broken. John had taken no sort of preemptive strike, rather coming forth to scope out and make an early assessment.

An hour after dawn, he saw the first signs of the X-Men trailing behind him. As John could have and did easily predict, Wolverine had begun to tear in on him, but not before he was put in his place. John just accepted it this time, biting his tongue and waiting for orders. Gambit, Rogue and Kurt were to be the first inside the stronghold and find the location of the Hungan and the other X-Men. Kurt would teleport back to John, Peter and Wolverine and inform them of the location, and they would break through as a powerhouse strike force. A simple run-and-gun rescue mission, so they hoped.

John, Peter and Wolverine had made it as far as the entrance to the Hungan's long hut before being swamped by his forces. All of the innocent villagers had gathered around them to watch the fracas as the invaders were stopped. By his count, John had beaten at least five men within an inch of death, maybe more; he heard the sounds of constant explosion in the background and wondered what Gambit's headcount could be. Just as he was beginning to feel boxed in, as if the stream of tribesman was never-ending, he heard a great clap of thunder preceding the Hungan exiting his home.

The Hungan stood regally among his men, raising his arms to the sky and laughing like a loon. Behind him came most of the missing X-Men; they were all wearing tattered robes and looked malnourished, if not emaciated. Warren's wings, in one example, were missing several feathers and his wings appeared to have some form of mange. Storm, however, was missing from the group. Scott was the first to make a move, firing his beam directly at Wolverine, throwing him back. Bobby came at John, sending out his ice beams, but John was too quick and rolled out of his way. After sweeping Bobby's leg, John tackled him and knocked him unconscious with a forceful punch. Warren was quick to step into Bobby's place, but was in no fighting shape and was easily disabled.

With those two gone and the others occupying the new team of X-Men, John saw an opening to take The Hungan. John was on top of him without hesitation. He had vaulted nearly twenty feet to attack, spearing the Hungan with a football tackle and knocking him to the ground. The Hungan was no slouch, though, and easily wrestled John from the bottom, on his feet just as quickly as he'd been knocked down. He cracked John several times in the face and chest with the staff he carried, his skeletal face hauntingly determined. John blocked one of the blows, grabbing the staff and pulling the Hungan directly into his fist.

John and the Hungan were locked in combat, the Hungan surprisingly holding his own against the super-strong mutant. It seemed to be a stalemate against the backdrop of the chaos of erupting mutant power behind them, until John heard a frenzied call from Wolverine between hasty jumps as he dodged Scott's eye beams. He called out for John to break the staff, that the staff was the source of The Hungan's power, and to hurry, if he didn't mind. John smirked at the last remark; this would be the end of this false Chieftain. The next strike the Hungan made with his staff was the last as John grabbed the end and pulled it to him. He smashed the pole against the side of the Hungan's head, shattering it and knocking his opponent down in a daze. John pounced again, and in the top mounted position, began landing heavy punches and elbows, using nearly his entire force behind it. In his fury, John had become oblivious to the world around him and nearly swung on Wolverine and Peter when they pulled him off. John made sure that the disgusting false Chieftain was taken care of this time around.


	5. Epilogue

On the Blackbird back to Bayville, John sat silent as Wolverine delivered another of his tired scoldings, this time, however, threatening expulsion from the ranks of the X-Men for his actions against the Hungan. John ignored him, looking instead to the back of the plane at the freed X-Men. Storm, who had originally been missing from the fray, had been found within the Hungan's hut, confined in a tiny, cramped cage. As for the rest of the X-Men, there was no telling how long they would be infirm. That worried Logan.

With the other X-Men out of commission, there'd be no telling how long they would have to rely on the new members that had been brought in. Peter, the Russian, was fast becoming a great addition to the team, and his old ally Gambit wasn't half-bad himself, except for that mouth. John, though, posed a real problem, and Logan realized that. He was useful as more than just muscle, with his military combat training and tracking skills; that attitude was a real kicker, however. Logan could recognize the problem because it was the same he had before taking Charles Xavier as a mentor. He only hoped the Professor could do as much to straighten out John Proudstar; he wasn't optimistic.


End file.
